


Every Breath

by winchestergirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-24
Updated: 2009-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchestergirl/pseuds/winchestergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam HATES the marks left by the rope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Breath

**Author's Note:**

> set after the events of S4 E12 'Criss Angel is a douchebag'

HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY DEAN!!!!!!!

here's a little fic to celebrate Dean's birthday

 

Title:Every Breath  
Author:[](http://winchesterxgirl.livejournal.com/profile)[ **winchesterxgirl**](http://winchesterxgirl.livejournal.com/)  
Rating:NC17  
Warning:Breathplay  
Summary:Sam HATES the marks left by the rope.

 

 

“Stop the car.” Sam’s jaw clenches, and he turns towards Ruby. “I said STOP THE CAR!”

Ruby shifts down through the gears, slowing down to almost a stop when Sam opens the door, the car still rolling. “What the hell, Sam? I thought we were on the same page about taking Lilith out, what, you gonna pussy out on me now? On the world, Sam?”

“NO, but _**you’re**_ gonna have to wait, the _**world’s**_ gonna have to wait, I have something _**more important**_ waiting for me.” He slams the door and starts to walk back to the hotel where he and Dean have been staying.

“Oh yeah, and what’s that Sam?”

Sam turns back to face Ruby, walking backwards and leveling his gaze at Ruby’s disbelieving glare, “MY BROTHER.”

***********************

Dean stays in the bar waiting for Sam to come back from his walk, but it only takes a couple of drinks to convince him that being almost strangled coupled with alcohol isn’t really the best thing for his throat. Number one it’s nigh on impossible to swallow, and number two, strangely the desire to fight to get each mouthful down really isn’t that appealing anymore. He throws the money down on the counter and smiles at the girl behind the bar. “Thanks.”

She smiles, picking up the money and dropping it into the register, “You take care,” she motions to the rope marks on his throat. Dean smiles back and husks “I will”. Any other time Dean would consider waiting for her shift to end, having a few drinks and well… yeah. Experiencing near death by hanging tonight and Sam leaving him here had just left him feeling strangely alone.

He walks back to the motel room almost on autopilot. Opens the door, and throws the keys down by the phone. “Sam?” Dean pauses for a reply, stripping his jacket off and dropping it on the bed “Sammy?” He scans the room for any sign Sam has returned. Nope.

Dean sighs and drops to the bed, pulling off his boots and lies back against the pillows. Well, it looks like it’s going to be just him and the porn channel again. He flicks on the remote and settles in for a lonely night.

 

*******************

 

“DEAN?” Sam’s practically crashing through the door, straight for where Dean’s laying on the bed, “Dean! I’m so sorry, I was going to go for a walk and Ru—” He screws up his face and shakes his head trying to order his thoughts. “I just… he hung you and after I just walked out on you … I should never have done that, and I just—” Sam’s huge hand’s cup Dean’s face pulling him into a kiss, desperate, reassuring, as he gently strokes at the reddened flesh of Dean’s neck beneath his fingers. Too many times Sam has felt his own breath slipping away, choked by a spirit, ghost, or some other creature, he knows how raw it feels, knows how shaken it makes him to think of leaving Dean alone. “I’m sorry Dean, I’m so sorry,” his breath is hot on Dean’s neck, the skin red, abraded by the fibers of the rope and Sam’s tongue touches it gently as he licks gently at the wounded area.

 

Dean moans at the touch of Sam’s tongue, so warm and wet, soothing “Sammy…Sammy I—” His hands trail along Sam’s arms and try to reassure him he is okay with his touch, but Sam refuses to let go. He sits up on the bed and molds his body to Sam.

 

“No. No, Dean ‘need to touch you, can’t lose you again. I’ve lost you too many times already.” Sam’s fingers trail down his chest to the hem of Dean’s t-shirt; sliding along the smooth flesh of his stomach, scratching his skin, leaving red marks of ownership. “You can’t leave me Dean, can’t leave me again.” Sam’s breath is hitching and he can’t fill his lungs with enough air. The words are a prayer tattooed on Dean’s skin. Now it’s Sam feeling as if he can’t breathe. He won’t survive again without Dean. He pulls Dean’s button-up down his arms and grabs at the t-shirt beneath, pulling it too from Dean’s body. Sam needs to get to the skin beneath, needs to be against him skin to skin, to be inside him, surrounding him. Dean is everything, Sam is nothing, and he needs to be inside his brother–now. He grabs desperately at the button-fly of his brothers jeans, dragging them down muscular thighs as Dean runs his hands through Sam’s shaggy hair. Sam swallows hard as Dean’s cock springs free, slapping against his body, so hard and hot and the desire to taste, to take him in his mouth is overwhelming. Map his body with his tongue; find all the spots that make Dean moan.

 

“Not leaving Sammy, never leaving you again…” Dean arches his back, hips thrusting his cock into Sam’s mouth as he finally takes him into the hilt, the feel of Dean’s cock, the taste of pre-cum bursting on his tongue, and Sam thinks he could die happy right now choking on Dean’s cock. Dean’s fingers tighten in Sam’s hair and it feels like he might tear it from his head, but he doesn’t care. Needs this, needs Dean. Sam runs his huge hands along Dean’s thighs; tighten on his hips, pressing Sam shape bruises into the soft flesh, bruises that will still be there come morning, hell, days from now. He drags his tongue along the underside of Dean’s cock, feeling the vein throbbing with the beat of Dean’s heart. Vital, proving Dean’s alive, with him, here right now and none of this is a dream. Sam cups Dean’s balls in his hand feeling the heat and weight of them, slides his cock from his lips and strokes them with his tongue drawing first one then the other into his mouth. Sam slips one finger back, teasing around Dean’s hole, aching to press inside and follows it with his tongue.

 

Dean groans Sam’s going to be the death of him; he just knows it but can’t bring himself to care. Sam’s finger, his tongue tracing across his hole, wanting to enter that tight hot heat has Dean keening now for more. For Sam’s cock deep inside him, “Sam, oh god Sammy…want…”

 

“What do you want Dean,” Sam presses his finger inside, teasing the rim stroking with his tongue.

 

“Want…no…need you, need you Sam. Fuck…” Dean’s body is trembling with want, a deep need to get Sam inside him.

 

Sam moves back up to Dean’s face, eyes meeting his lust filled gaze, crushing their mouths together in desperation while his finger still teases his brother. “Want to fuck you Dean. Fill you up, so deep inside you that you’ll feel me for days.” He licks down Dean’s neck, focusing his assault on the marks, wanting to erase them from his skin. Replace them with his marks instead.

 

“Do it. Damn it Sammy just fuck me, want to feel you, “Dean’s voice is strained, pain and lust in equal measure as he bears down against Sam’s hand begging him to get on with it already. He reaches down and pulls at Sam’s jeans, denim rough and unforgiving as he tries to open them to get to Sam’s cock. Sam lifts up as Dean pushes the denim down past Sam’s slim hips, bringing his hand around to grip at Sam’s cock. The flushed head is dark and oozing pre-come, straining against his hand. Dean tightens his grip and strokes Sam’s shaft feeling it harden and lengthen, and he licks his lips in anticipation of having that cock inside him, “Stop fucking teasing me Sammy.”

 

He pushes Sam backwards, he might have rope marks around his neck and he may have nearly died tonight but he’s not a weak little kid. Sam lets out a sound of surprise as he discovers himself lying beneath Dean. “What the fuck Dean?”

 

Dean rummages around in the drawer by the bed and produces a tube of lube. “You didn’t think I was going to let that monster cock inside my ass without this did you?” He grins as he flips the cap and squeezes it over his fingers, reaching behind to open himself up. Sam’s groan makes his cock twitch and he spreads the rest of the lube over Sam’s shaft before sinking down, Sam full and thick inside him.

 

“Dean…fuck…you're so fucking tight.”

He raises letting Sam’s cock slip free till the head catches on his rim and sinks down again creating a delicious friction that has Sam groaning. He can feel Sam’s cock hitting his prostate every time he slides down, and he lets out a cry as Sam starts to jack him off, the pleasurable sensations overwhelming him as he feels the warm burn of his orgasm starting to build. Up, down, up, and he knows it’s only moments before he comes, then Sam is placing his large hand on his chest. Pressing him back so that he’s lying beneath Sam and his head is hanging over the edge of the bed. Sam takes charge of the pace thrusting deep into Dean, legs spread out as if he was doing the splits, Sam holds Dean’s legs steady as he thrusts. Both of them are moaning now as Sam leans forward kissing Dean, his brother’s tongue fucking into his mouth as hard as his cock is pounding into Dean’s ass. The angle they’re at perfectly presents Dean’s neck for Sam's hands to fit around. Sam shakily places one had on Dean’s neck tracing the marks. “Want these gone Dean, want to make you mine, place my marks on you so no one will ever do this again.”

 

Dean closes his eyes and fucking whimpers and Sam doesn’t think he has ever been as hard as he is right now. His cock thrusts into Dean, right to the root, and Dean meets his gaze, certain and turned on. He lifts his hand and beckons Sam down to listen as he whispers, “Do it Sammy.” He brings Sam’s other hand to his throat, feeling the pressure as Sam‘s fingers tighten cutting off his air. He wonders if this was a wise thing to do…hell he almost died this way, but when Sam’s face begins to fade his vision blurring Dean comes hard, thick strands of come sliding down Sam’s fingers, the drops spattering over his skin. “Fuck! Oh fuck, Sammy.” He coughs, the effort of talking too much, and Sam traces his fingers over the purple marks that are beginning to bloom on Dean’s throat.

 

“You belong to me Dean, and nothing will ever change that.”

 

Dean smiles as he grips Sam’s hands in his and lets them slide against his throat. “Always have, Sammy. Always have.” Funny thing is as the words slip from his mouth he realizes how true they are, and how he never wants it to change.

 

**********END**********


End file.
